“I’ll let you get back to Dillon; thanks for the slice,” Amanda said as she stood up. “Listen, Tom, there’s just one more thing. Do you think Dillon is going to ask Marie? I told her she should just ask him, but she said no way. She wants him to do the asking.” Amanda looked genuinely worried.
“I’m working on it,” Tom said, glad for the distraction. “We all know he wants to ask and she wants to go, but, you know, he gets nervous.”
Amanda nodded. “Not all cool like you are, huh?”
Tom blushed again, and Amanda gave him a kiss on the cheek and she was gone.
Dillon returned and couldn’t resist: “Well? Did you ask her?”
“Let’s just say 'mission accomplished.' We are going to Starlight. Now we just need you and Marie to get it figured out.” Tom decided the highlights were enough. “Seriously, Dillon, you know Marie will go, so what’s the hold-up? Why don’t you just ask her?”
Dillon really had thought that he would have asked her by now. He had planned to do it after the concert, but that night certainly didn’t go as planned. Now Dillon was trying to find the right opportunity. He wanted it to be special, not just blurted out at school. Still, maybe a well-placed blurt was the best he could hope for.
Back at Ryan’s, no one noticed that they weren’t alone; Danny stood in the corner, feeling shell-shocked. He heard most of their conversation and he could barely wrap his head around it. In the last week he had learned that he was adopted, or stolen, or something. That he had a twin. And now his brother was going blind.
He listened to Thomas’ plan and he liked it for two reasons. First off, it was a long shot, but not impossible given their recent experiences, and second, it was the only chance they had.
November 21, 2011
Ryan was up before dawn. Everyone agreed not to tell Dillon about his diagnosis until after the weekend. They were desperate to give him the bad news only after they had some good news too—either a trial he could take part in, or some sort of plan to travel into the future to get the cure. It all seemed so reasonable until they realized that they had no way to know when or even if a cure would ever be found. Not to mention the fact that Leber’s Disease moved fast. Dillon could have another episode at any time, in either eye. That was bad enough, but there was no way to know when the final episode would come: when would he lose his sight forever?
There was another reason that Ryan couldn’t sleep. There had been a lot of talk about sending Dillon forward in time to find the cure, but there was precious little talk about getting him back. What if he was cured, but lost? They didn’t talk about it, but Ryan was convinced that a big part of Maggie’s tears were about the risk of losing her son in order to save him. They both knew that they were willing to let Dillon go if it meant a cure, but it wouldn’t be easy.
They met at Maggie’s a couple of hours before the appointment to see Dr. Serina. Thomas let Tom take the day off school to be there for Dillon, and instead of being glad for the chance to play hooky; the boys knew it was a bad sign.
When they were all together, Ryan stood up. No one had any doubt that Danny was there, and he was; standing guard, right behind Dillon. The tension in the room was palpable.
“Dillon, I’m not going to sugarcoat this: we have a big problem,” Ryan began. “We also have plans to deal with the problem, so I don’t want you to panic. Everything will be okay, I give you my word.”
As Dillon heard the details of his condition, and learned that it was almost definitely related to his heart issue, his feelings alternated between fear and anger.
“Why is this happening to me? No one in our family is blind! You said this was hereditary, for Pete’s sake.”
That was a wrinkle that no one had thought of. The adults in the room knew how Maggie and Ryan got Dillon. Danny knew too, but no one had bothered to tell Dillon yet. Now Dillon would have to hear even more earth-shattering news.
“Dillon, we need to go to see the doctor. Obviously there is a lot more to talk about, but that’s enough for now. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Ryan said.
The doctor’s office was across town and located on the fifteenth floor of the hospital. Dillon shuddered when he walked in and smelled the antiseptic. Dr. Serina was waiting for them with a smile on her face.
“I think I may have some good news. I know that by now you must feel frustrated and overwhelmed, Dillon.” She spoke as if Dillon was the one in charge and he appreciated it. “I have been in touch with some doctors in England and they are running a clinical trial. They want to see how a drug called Abenone affects Leber’s Disease. The initial results are promising and the hope is that this will be a big step toward a cure.”
“I have to go to England?” Suddenly all Dillon could think about was missing the Starlight Ball. The adults were all talking at once after that, and Dillon closed his eyes. This was too much. He just wanted to go home and play the guitar.
November 24, 2011
“Play on, baby, play on,” Danny whispered, “and Happy Thanksgiving.”
Dillon played the guitar constantly. He didn’t know why, but he knew that the old guitar made him feel better—playing guitar and knowing Danny was there. It was good to have someone to talk to when he couldn’t fall asleep. Danny hadn’t left Dillon’s side once all week. There was just too much going on. Danny wanted to go back and confront Clint, he wanted to tell Dillon that they really were brothers, but he didn’t want to be the one who pushed Dillon right over the edge.
Marie called, but Dillon didn’t know what to say so he just let it go to voicemail. He had to tell her what was happening, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted to be normal. Marie knew he was sick, but she had no idea what was really happening.
The trial in England was more complicated than they thought. Dillon would have to be in a city called Newcastle Upon Tyne for at least six months. No school, no dance, no Marie. All of that was bad enough, but there was more. The trial was generally open only to residents of the United Kingdom or Germany. Still, they had a shot at it because Manhattan University had a reciprocal arrangement with the English research facility. They had a shot, but no guarantees. In the meantime, Dillon’s vision had blacked out twice in the span of a day and a half. “How ironic: a time traveller, running out of time,” Dillon whispered.
Marie was coming over for dessert after having Thanksgiving dinner with her family. Dillon was planning to take her for a walk and ask her to Starlight, but now he didn’t know if he could. He felt defective. Why would she want to go with a guy as weird as he was?
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Sunshine,” Danny tried again to cheer Dillon up.
“Leave me alone. I don’t feel very thankful this year,” Dillon sulked.
“Tough. You may not be thankful, but I am. I love this holiday. Great food, great football, and even a chance to laugh at you trying to ask Marie to Starlight.”
Dillon glared at Danny and played the guitar louder.
The turkey was just about perfect: golden brown and glistening in the candlelight. Sara had outdone herself. She had even made her special stuffing in the muffin tin. That way, no one had to ask for a corner piece; everyone got their stuffing just the way they liked it.
Clint called their friends to the table, and when everyone was seated, Sara brought in her masterpiece. A cheer went up and the best Thanksgiving they’d had since Danny had died was underway.
Once everyone was settled, Clint proposed a toast. He toasted his son’s memory and all the men and women away from their families on Thanksgiving so they could serve their country. Then Clint bowed his head.
“In a world where many feel alone, we are thankful to be together. In a time when many don’t have enough to eat, we are thankful for this beautiful meal. Most of all, we are thankful for every day we had with Danny. God bless him. Happy Thanksgiving and let’s eat.”
Danny slipped in during his dad’s prayer.
Sara was smiling because she felt warm and happy inside. Da
nny’s place at the table was empty, but she could swear she felt him nearby. Danny wanted to get back to Dillon in New York, but it was Thanksgiving and he felt he had to see his mom and dad too. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether these people who had raised him were his real family. Danny remembered asking his mom when he was a kid about why he didn’t look much like them, but she had brushed it off, saying that he looked a lot like her grandpa. Come to think of it, he never did see a picture of that man.
Back in New York, they were just sitting down to dinner. Danny winked at Dillon and said he would wait for him in his room. It was time to talk about what couldn’t wait any longer.
Dillon came in after dinner and found Danny strumming the guitar. There has to be something special about that guitar, Dillon thought. Some reason it delivers messages…
“Mailbox! Why didn’t I think of this before?” Dillon was getting excited. “That guitar is more than a musical instrument, it’s a freakin’ mailbox. What if the answers we need will still come out of it, like the words we found before?”
“I don’t know, Dillon, maybe, but I don’t think we have time to just sit around and wait for the guitar or Uncle Joe to tell us what to do next.”
They spent the next hour talking about Thomas’ plan to figure out how and then where and when to send Dillon into the future to find the cure for Leber’s Disease. Danny nodded and then fidgeted.
“Look, I don’t really know how to figure that out, but I think I have some information that we need to discuss.”
November 25, 2011
A lot of people get up early on the day after Thanksgiving. There are great deals at the malls and Black Friday means a place like New York is even busier than usual. Ryan was busy too, but he wasn’t going shopping; he was going to see his client, Michael McIntyre, the most powerful man he knew.
Rockefeller Center was impressive any time of year, but when it was dressed for Christmas, it literally sparkled. Trumpeting angels led the way to the biggest Christmas tree in New York City, and the ice skating rink below the tree was always a sea of happy people. Crews were lifting the mammoth evergreen into place, and excitement was in the air.
Ryan knew exactly where he was going, but he was still trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say when he got there. Michael McIntyre Industries spanned the entire fiftieth floor of One Rockefeller Plaza, and it was at twice as impressive as the tree going up outside. Every time he walked in, Ryan marveled at the fine art, the antiques, and, most of all, the fact that he got to be Michael’s personal attorney, the keeper of his secrets.
Jeanine, Michael’s personal assistant, was a wonderful older lady with a no-nonsense style. She handled the press, the pressure, and her position with indefatigable grace and wit. Ryan smiled when he saw her and put out his hand.
“Hello, Jeanine, I know I don’t have an appointment, but I really do need a few minutes of Michael’s time. Is he in?”
“No, you don’t have an appointment and yes, he is in. Let me tell him you are here,” Jeanine chided Ryan as she lifted her phone to call her boss.
A moment later Ryan was seated on a kidd leather club chair with a silk and wool rug under his old leather loafers. The light glowed softly around them, and Ryan picked up a small crystal on the table beside him. He was waiting for Michael to turn to face him, and he was nervous. How the heck could he ever hope to convince Michael to help? He nearly backed out of the office while Michael’s back was still turned, but the little crystal from the end table distracted him.
“Funny place for a paperweight,” Ryan mused as he turned it over in his hand. The lights in the room flickered and Michael whirled around. Michael was on the phone with his representative in Asia and he was not pleased.
“What do you mean the earthquake continues to affect production? Get it done, or your career is done. Clear?” He hung up and unclenched his gnarled fist.
Ryan put down the crystal and sat up to face Michael. There was no turning back now. Michael looked tired and ticked off, but there wasn’t much Ryan could do about that. Ryan used to wonder if all the pressures of success made him age faster, but it was more likely to be the pressures of his three ex-wives and his current young wife or nurse or whatever. Dillon had been a good sport the day Ryan took him to the McIntyre’s place for a Fourth of July party. Michael’s son was just a little guy, but Ryan knew that little boy was still talking about his friend Dillon. Ryan could only hope that Michael remembered.
“Michael, I came to see you today on a personal matter. I need your help and I hope that as a father you will understand just how important this is to me.” Ryan knew how long Michael had waited to become a dad and how much it meant him. He was known for rescheduling meetings to see his son play soccer, and it was a totally different side to the otherwise fierce man.
Michael sat up and listened. Ryan explained that Dillon had been recently diagnosed with Leber’s Disease and what that diagnosis meant. That was the easy part. Then he had to confirm Michael’s suspicions that Dillon had a unique ability that could put the cure within his reach. “If you can help us find out about a future cure for Leber’s Disease, I believe that Dillon can go and get it.”
At first, Ryan was hoping that Michael would see an opportunity to make millions by helping them bring back a cure from the future. On the way over, it seemed like a good idea in Ryan’s head. A man like Michael McIntyre could access the latest research and pay for experts in any field. Ryan knew that McIntyre Industries had vast holdings in technology and bioengineering. If any group was even close to knowing how to time travel to a specific time and place, to knowing about future cures, or even if any group was close to a breakthrough, medical or otherwise, Ryan was sure Michael McIntyre could find out. Now though, as he spilled it all out in this mogul’s office, Ryan felt ridiculous. Maybe the best thing to do was to forget it and try to get out of the office before he was thrown out, but Michael didn’t let him get that far.
“Are you saying Dillon can cross dimensions and time travel?” Michael’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Michael was quiet for a few minutes as he tried to figure out the best way to play this new development. There was no doubt he could help Ryan; the question was whether it was in his best interest to do so. As a father, he felt sorry for Ryan. Still, he was about to wash his hands of the whole mess when he had a thought. Unbidden, it flashed before his eyes like it always did when he least expected it: a church not far from where they stood now, and a young man desperate to make his troubles go away. Michael wasn’t proud of what he had done and he wished he could forget about it, but it haunted him and weakened his resolve not to get involved. For a moment, all he could think of was the basket and the bundles he had left behind him at the church that day so long ago. Michael sighed and asked only one more question. “Have you told anyone else?”
“No, I came to you first because . . .”
Ryan expected to have to try to prove his claim or explain it. The lights flickered again and Michael looked almost nervously at the crystals on his desk. There were a few small crystals glowing on the corner of Michael’s desk, and Ryan realized something he hadn’t noticed before: the crystals glowed, but had no power source—no battery and no plug. For that matter, there was nothing plugged in anywhere, as if there was no electricity in the room; but everything around them was switched on and working. The lights, the computers, the fan—everything was wireless, but it was more than that. The soft glow in the room wasn’t like regular lighting. It was more of a glow than a glare. Ryan wondered why he had never noticed this before. Absentmindedly, he touched the crystal paperweight beside him. Ryan guessed it must be some new kind of bulb or something when the lights flickered again.
“Would you please stop touching that.” Michael looked annoyed. Ryan quickly put the crystal paperweight down again. He hadn’t even realized he was holding it again. The lights returned to normal.
Ryan suddenly
realized that the computer in his own briefcase was vibrating. He stopped talking and opened his briefcase. The computer was on and it was transferring files from his computer to Michael’s. The crystals around them were practically humming now.
“Wait a minute. What the hell is going on here? It’s like your office is some kind of machine vacuuming all kinds of private information from all of us.”
When Ryan looked at Michael’s monitor, he saw Jeanine’s shopping list beside his own letters to Dillon’s doctors. Ryan stood and was about to throw the monitor and the glowing crystals right off Michael’s desk.
“Wait! Wait! I can explain.” Michael held up his hands.
Suddenly Ryan understood why he didn’t have to prove Dillon’s time travel was possible. Could it be that Michael was already an expert? “That’s how you do it,” Ryan gasped as his long held suspicions were finally confirmed. “It’s easy for you to always stay ahead of the curve: you’re peeking. You make money by bringing the ideas from the future back to us and you are using these crystals to power the trips and collect the information. How? How do you know when and where to go?”
Michael had expected to answer questions about the crystals, not about his other secrets. “These crystals are the future of alternative energy. They not only replace electricity and fossil fuel, they provide security through transparency. Everyone behaves when they know that anyone can see what they are up to. It is the key to peace in our time. No fuel wars and no secrets!”
“We are definitely going to talk about this; the implications are magnificent and utterly terrifying, but right now, I just want to figure out how to help my boy,” Ryan hissed.
Michael did not want to share the secret of his success. “It’s complicated and I really wouldn’t know the first thing about teaching someone else how to do it, and besides, it’s almost impossible to know when and even if Leber’s gets a cure.”
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